Folie a Deux
by Fractal.Dreem
Summary: "Please, It's Layne. I killed the last man who called me by my full name."
1. Chapter 1

_Killers do not just become human beings. _

Will Graham rode somewhat awkwardly in the passenger seat with the polite Dr. Lecter as they were on their way to meet a new consultant that was to be added to their team for the current case. Jack had wanted them all to meet on neutral ground, so he sent them to a small cafe. Will thought it was ridiculous, of course, but hadn't much say as Dr. Lecter had met the suggestion with his usual courtesy. Within minutes of leaving the office, they arrived at their destination. Will's anxiety peaked, but he tried his best to hide it from the astute doctor. They walked in together, Will slightly behind Hannibal. The place was packed, and Will only knew that she would be wearing a black leather jacket, and had auburn hair. There were seven different people in there who fit that description. But Dr. Lecter was maneuvering around the crowds, dancing almost, towards a woman who sat alone at a small table sipping a coffee, and reading a book he couldn't quite make out, she either didn't notice the good doctor, or was feigning ignorance. Will followed Hannibal clumsily, bumping into people, having to say "I'm sorry" a half dozen times. He got there just in time to hear the doctor ask a question.

"Is this seat taken?" His accented voice was gentle, but could somehow be heard over the dull roar in the café. Dr. Lecter didn't exactly wait for an answer either, sitting as he asked the question, with Will hovering behind him, unsure of what to do.

"You must be Doctor Lecter, and Special agent Graham." She almost murmured as she saved her place in the book with a red bit of yarn. Her eyes raised, and He nearly had to catch his breath; they were the gray of iron, almost black, but it wasn't the color that got to him, it was how her gaze seemed to slice through his head, straight to his brain. Will felt like he was being read like a book, like every little movement, the way he breathed, how his finger twitched, was being analyzed. He felt naked. In an instant her eyes rested on the doctor, and Will wondered what the easy mannered man felt in that moment.

"You are correct," Hannibal confirmed, "and you must be Miss Alaina Thompson." The woman they knew now to be Alaina Thompson nodded with a slight curvature to her lips.

* * *

Alaina leaned back and folded her hands over her stomach. She had sensed the fear with which Will Graham viewed her upon her first observation, but Hannibal Lecter was different. He remained aloof during her quick look-over of him. It intrigued her, to say the least. He reminded her of a predator.

"Please, It's Layne. I killed the last man who called me by my full name." She took a sip of her overly flavored, saccharine coffee in the silence of the two men that followed her statement.

"Wh-what?" Will looked startled and appalled as he stuttered out the singular word. Her eyes flicked to Hannibal as she went to repeat herself. But she was cut off by Will's flustered voice. "I heard what you said, but why? And how are you working with the FBI?" Layne looked up at him curiously, a tad bit confused now.

"Surely Mr. Crawford told you about my past?" She tilted her head, but Will stared at her blankly. "No? Well rest assured, Mr. Graham, you are in no danger. Nor is anyone who I work with. With that, you will have to remain satisfied." She was reticent about revealing her, some would call it harrowing, past due to the fact that it contained so much death in it.

* * *

"I can't believe Jack would allow such a cold, calculating, manipulative person join the case, clearly she has a history of killing people, and just in the last half hour I've deduced that she has hardly any qualms about it." Will Graham vented to Hannibal Lecter in the car that they were taking to the FBI building, but his mind was elsewhere, it was still back in the café with the petite, auburn haired woman. She interested Hannibal, with her calculating eyes, and guardedness, and intelligence. Oh, the intelligence that burned behind those eyes, he had met few women with such a fire inside. For half an hour he had played cat and mouse with her, poking, prodding, and trying to get a rise out of her, anything but the flat, shrewdness that she displayed. Yet, she had been able to keep her cool at his prying, not even showing a lick of irritation. If Hannibal Lecter knew anything, it was that he would crack the puzzle that was Layne Thompson. "Are you even listening to me?" Will's voice broke through Hannibal's revere, causing him to look up.

"Forgive me, Will. I was merely contemplating the fact that it does not seem that she has no qualms about death, but that she was merely trying to keep collected under our intense questioning." This stopped Will right in his tracks, as he was given something new to contemplate.

"I hadn't thought of that." He said almost sheepishly, but Hannibal brushed off the awkwardness as they arrived at the FBI building. Layne, who had driven in a different car pulled up next to them, and got out of her beaten up pickup. Something else that intrigued Hannibal. But now it was time for the case.

Layne walked into the building before her without fear or worry, it was a place she was all too familiar with, having both good and bad times there. She was acutely aware of the men following at a leisurely pace behind her, and swayed her hips the tiniest bit to show off her well shaped posterior in hopes of keeping their mind off of the fact that she was in front of them, and on the fact that there was just a woman in front of them. When she reached Jack Crawford's office, a smile instantly placed its self on her lips, she viewed the man almost as a father, and felt more comfortable around him, than anyone else.

"Hello Jack!" She sang, almost enthusiastically, still smiling, "What new morsel have you got for me this time? I see you've added onto your rag-tag group of misfits." She said just as Will and Hannibal entered the room, and received raised eyebrows from both. She wasn't surprised as she was practically a different person from at the café. "Sorry," she turned towards an interested Dr. Lecter, and a confused Will Graham, "For my treatment of you at the café, I'm just not comfortable with strangers." She offered in explanation. Will seemed to remain confused, but Dr. Lecter smiled.

"Understandable, we were all feeling each other out it seems." His statement had a hint of finality to it, and ended the matter. They were then able to get onto the case.

"There have been a series of children's bodies found in the Mississippi river, none of them reported missing by their parents, and upon questioning, revealed that they had sold their children to a man. Unfortunately every set of parents was given a different name, but the description remains the same: A blonde haired man, with sunglasses and a necklace." Jack Crawford finished by showing them a sketch of the man.

"This is the most generic sketch you could possibly have." Will lamented. Debate among them continued as Layne sat frozen. She knew exactly who the man was.

"His name is Ross Rawlins." She stated quietly, Will and Jack didn't notice, and continued their heated debate over whether the sketch should be released to the public or not. But Hannibal noticed, and looked up at her curiously, urging her to speak up with his dark eyes. "His name is Ross Rawlins." She repeated, louder this time, and Will and Jack heard her, both looking at her with surprise, so she continued, "He's given the title 'Farmer' by 'The Golden Dawn'. Are either of you familiar with the organization?" She directed the question at Will and Hannibal, knowing full well that Jack Knew of it.

* * *

AN/ I hope this is okay. It's been a LONG time since I've written a story reviews are helpful, but please make them as constructive as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

Both men shook their heads in the negative, so she explained. "The Golden Dawn is an elite organization of assassins, who are trained in everything from killing, to espionage. They are trained to blend in up until the point they hit their mark, and disappear after. Little is officially known about their training techniques as the assassins we have caught would not talk about it. But what we do know, is that most of them were sold by their parents to the 'Farmer' Known as Ross Rawlins, and that he kills any child that fights back, as it is easier to mold compliant children."

"And how do you know this?" Will's voice was tight. Layne thought for a second about telling the truth, but Jack cut in before she really had a chance.

"She is chief liaison with the organization." Was his explanation. Layne could only nod.

"There has been a need for such a position?" Hannibal inquired calmly with a raised eyebrow. And Jack nodded.

"You see, 'The Golden Dawn' is a neutral agency located overseas. It has worked with, and against the United States in the past. In fact they even infiltrated the SS and made Hitler's death look like a suicide. Point is, they're allowed on U.S. soil, insofar as they are not breaking any laws, when they _are _breaking laws, that's where Layne comes in, she helps us catch them. She also writes up an official report for all agencies involved." Silence. Hannibal and Will seemed satisfied enough by the answer to continue on with the case.

"So… How do we catch the guy?" Will was skeptical, and understandably so; he had just found out about something the government kept from almost everyone. Catching the man would be difficult under the circumstances of having to keep things under wraps, Layne supposed that was why it merited attention from the two best minds she had heard of, along with her own special expertise.

"We've caught farmers in the past by luring them into a buy, with two people acting as parents wanting to get rid of what they perceive as unruly children, but that won't work with our guy." Layne received confused glances, even from Jack, "You see, most Farmers are quite simple, they're recruited for the ease of brainwashing them into buying and killing children, not for their cunning, that kind of thing is what they look for in the kids. Ross is different. He was a child that was bought, went through the assassin training, and who asked to be a Farmer because… Well… He has a bit of a thing for children…" She saw Hannibal's jaw tighten ever so slightly, and Will and Jack's fists clenche. Layne's own mouth tasted bitter from what she'd had to say, and her stomach roiled at the memories of what the man had done to her personally, but she showed none of it on her face as she continued on. "I've had the displeasure of hearing the stories of what he's done to children on many occasions. I've been hunting the bastard for three years now, and I still can't pin him down with any concrete evidence." Her own fist clenched in anger at her past with him. But she knew the men in the room would think it was because of her inability to find evidence to convict him. A contemplative silence overcame the group.

"It's worth a try though, is it not?" Layne tilted her head at the good doctor, bidding him to explain. "He probably knows that it is unlikely that we will follow with our usual modus operandi, and by doing so, catch him off guard." His reasoning was sound, and Layne pursed her lips in thought; if it did work, she would finally be rid of the very man who bought her when she was just 8 years old.

* * *

AN/ Sorry it's so short, and technical, and dry. I PROMISE to make the next chapter more interesting. I just, like taking things slow, rather than rushing through, like some people do. So, Hope you like. Constructive criticism is much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

Layne Thompson felt uneasy. One might almost say she was worried. Even though she had persistently, and continually attempted to persuade Jack that her acting as the mother of the 'unruly child' to be 'sold', and even after reminding him that Ross might recognize her, despite all the years that separated their last viewing of each other, he still insisted that she work with Hannibal in securing the set up with Ross Rawlins. How they had gotten him to agree to come, was beyond her; he should have been a lot smarter than this. The doorbell rang, a loud clanging noise in the old home that they had rented, and startled Layne out of her thoughts. He was here. She stood up from her seat on the couch along with Hannibal, whom she had worked with for weeks trying to track down Ross' contact information, and walked towards the door, slightly behind him. Deferring to him by choice, and choice alone, only because Will was in the other room with Jack, she didn't want him to know how truly dominant she could be. When the door opened, she fought to keep a straight face, but her fists curled slightly. It was not Ross Rawlins on the other side of the door, but a man she did not recognize, a dummy.

"Mr. Rawlins," Hannibal said, not knowing it wasn't the man they were looking for, "Please, do come in." He swept his arm gallantly, a gesture for the dummy to come inside. Layne followed the men back to the living room, standing near Hannibal as he talked to 'Ross Rawlins' about the troubles their child was giving them. And that's when she saw it: a little glimmer coming from a window of the hotel across the street. At first, she thought it was just the sun gleaming on the window, but it moved slightly, and she knew it was the scope of a gun. Layne moved immediately, unconsciously, and knocked Hannibal to the ground, falling herself, as the sound of a bullet hitting the wall behind where she had just been, echoed through the silence of the room. In that moment, she knew the target was her, and not Hannibal. Layne's deft fingers hiked up her skirt on her right thigh, drawing a slim knife that had been hidden underneath in the process. At the same time, the dummy in the room drew a gun. Layne had to duck a bullet, a bullet that barely missed her, whizzing past her ear. She was lucky that time. While the dummy took time to re-aim, and steady himself from the recoil of a gun he was clearly unfamiliar with, Layne took her chance. She lunged at him, whipping her knife across his throat, but not before he got out another shot.

Pain lanced through Layne's abdomen as she attempted to sit up just after getting stitches, but a firm hand pushed her back down into the hospital bed.

* * *

"Jack, I'm fine!" She protested, but upon seeing the concerned look on his face, she sighed, "Really, I'm fine." She was glad that Jack was the only person in the room. It gave her a moment to be herself for the first time in weeks; working with Hannibal had been a dance of wits to be sure, but she had not once felt comfortable enough to act like she was now: tired, and worried. Jack placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Layne, you're the toughest girl I know, but you're not bullet proof, today's events showed that. For right now I want you off this case." Layne made a sound of protest at his words. "No buts, Layne. You're off the case until you're fully healed, I may call you in on others, but this one is too dangerous and too personal for you. And for me. I've handed it over to another unit." And that was that. Layne was sent to go home and expected to do nothing but sit on her butt and wait, while Ross Rawlins bought, kidnapped, and killed children.

* * *

AN/ I know it's short, but the next part of this chapter is a GIANT change of pace. so I figured it would be best to post them separately... so be on the look out for that later today.


	4. Chapter 4

A Doorbell awoke Layne with a start. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she walked to the door in her apartment in just a t-shirt and underwear, completely unaware of the hour glass figure she bore. When she opened the door, she snapped wide awake, it was Dr. Lecter on the other side. His eyebrows raised imperceptibly at her attire, but Layne disregarded it.

"Can I help you?" Her tone was flat. Hannibal cleared his throat a bit before he spoke.

"Jack Crawford wants me to give an analysis of your mental status, as per protocol when an agent takes a life." Layne pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed in frustration; this was the part she hated the most. At least Jack had given her a week to recover from the bullet wound.

"Come in, it'll take me a minute to get dressed." Her voice was resigned, frustrated, the first real glance at her core that she had allowed the doctor.

* * *

Hannibal took the opportunity that Layne had allowed him to look around the front room of her apartment. He was surprised, it was living room like any other, except it didn't look lived in. It was impeccably clean, and free from dust, dander, or otherwise. There were things missing from it, though, that tended to reside in other living spaces: a television, in the place where it would be, was a wall of water, and in the place of pictures of family, friends, were large paintings on the wall, by an artist he was unfamiliar with. Before he had more time to ponder the young woman's living room, the lady in question emerged from a narrow hallway. In a dress. Hannibal was surprised to say the least, all he'd ever seen her in was a beaten up leather jacket, with a dark shirt beneath it, and her black jeans that hung loosely off her thin frame. This dress was an extreme change of pace, It was bright yellow, complimenting her auburn hair, and making her gray eyes darker. Her shoes, and the thin bracelet she wore were both a deep navy, seemingly black against the yellow. Hannibal couldn't help but raise a brow at her, this caused her to smile shyly, but genuinely.

"Why Dr. Lecter, you look like you have never seen a girl in a dress before." She said while looking him in the eye, almost playfully. A smile of its own graced Hannibal's thin lips.

"Just not you my dear Layne," her once shy smile broadened, "Would you like me to drive you to my office? No offense meant, but that beaten up old monstrosity of yours, well, it seems to be quite unreliable." Grey eyes rolled up to the sky, but a smile stayed on the lips of the woman in front of him as he held his car door open for her.

* * *

Layne thanked the good doctor as he gently closed the door behind her. When he entered the small confines of the car, the space seemed to shrink tenfold, and she was inundated with his scent. It was a mixture of exotic soap that she couldn't quite identify, something warm and breezy, and a certain tang that was all too familiar. She looked sharply at the man beside her, studying his strong jaw, and high cheek bones, looking for any signs of deception, of insincerity. She could detect nothing but the slight smile on his lips, left over from their previous exchange. Layne moved her eyes back to the road, heart rate increasing slightly, not knowing if this man was as dangerous as she now thought him to be. Something in her, though, told her to let things play out as they would, to forget that she had smelled the coppery scent of blood in this small car. For all she knew, he could have been at a crime scene recently. She didn't know for sure, what she did know, was that she was going to keep quiet, and gently probe his psyche, to see what she could find, to see if her suspicions about him turned out to be true or false.

* * *

Upon entering Hannibal's office, Layne was impressed, to say the least. Said office was extremely spacious, and almost like a library in its expansive selection of what she assumed to be mostly psychology books. While the doctor took a seat, she walked slowly around the room, hoping to take in the knowledge contained within it through osmosis. After an amount of time, Layne would never be sure how long she had browsed the titles of those books, she remembered that seeking knowledge was not the purpose of this trip to Dr. Lecter's office.

"Sorry." She said sheepishly, sitting down in a chair across from him.

"It's quite alright, I enjoy the company of curious minds. Is there anything you saw that you would like to borrow?" Layne's jaw slackened a bit at the question; she had not anticipated that kind of answer. She nodded somewhat cautiously, as she had seen many things she would love to read, but the problem was making a choice. "Feel free to grab a few before we leave, I would be more than happy to lend them to you." The doctor smiled at her, but Layne had trouble deciphering this particular expression. "Shall we begin then?" Layne nodded, more confidently this time. "Excellent. I will be quite frank with you Layne, I've already signed jacks papers as through our previous interactions I have determined you to be of sound mind and judgment. I am merely interested in why you choose to use a knife instead of a gun?" Layne's jaw didn't just slacken this time, it literally almost dropped to the ground, she was floored for the first time in her life. She was so surprised that she almost didn't know what to say. But she quickly regained composure, noting Hannibal's evanescent smirk.

"I use a knife because projectiles are unpredictable, if you stab a man, he's been stabbed, but if you shoot at a man, the wind, or the recoil of the gun can affect the direction of the bullet, so, you shot at him, but he is not necessarily shot. I prefer the sure thing." What she did not mention was that she also had been conditioned at a young age to enjoy the feeling of life leaving the human body. Instead, she noted that the doctor in front of her had slid forward slightly in his seat, becoming more and more attentive as her explanation went on.

* * *

The ride in Dr. Lecter's car back to her house was more tense than she expected it to be. She had gone from wanting to be relaxed, and herself around this man, to feeling his imposing presence, and wanting to shrink into nothingness. She marveled at how he had such influence over her; a part of her was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, making her playful, and gentle, like the woman she was on the inside. But the other, instinctual part of her wanted to gnaw off its own arm before being caught in the doctor's sticky web. She shook her head from such thoughts as they pulled up to her apartment building. Instantly, she felt something wrong, and within seconds knew why: the door to her apartment was open, and swinging in the breeze…

* * *

AN/ Longer, it's more obvious where the story is going (I think?), and sorry about the cliff hanger, this might be the last chapter I write for a while as I am leaving for over a month as of thursday. I might write up something short and quick to add some closure to this chapter, but I might just leave you hanging. I don't know yet.


End file.
